It was a hot August day, a Sunday to be exact. Chantel was sprawled on her bed, sighing to herself. Her room was barely lit by the outside world, the sun creeping through her blinds. The vaporizer buzzed away filling the room with its medicated smoke. She was bed-ridden with a cold and all that was on her mind was what was her passion? She was interested in many things but to say she loved them, that was to strong of a word. She turned on her side and grabbed her laptop she always kept next to her bed. Turning it on she went straight to her notes and stared at the blank canvas. What was she doing? What was she thinking! She couldn't write if her life depended on it....Yet it seemed as if her computer was calling her, telling her to write, maybe only one word or a whole book. She couldn't help but find herself typing away, writing word for word how her day had gone, every small yet boring detail piled into on small paragraph. That was all she could write before her mother turned up the volume on the T.V. In the next room. It was so loud she could barely think and soon enough it gave her a pounding headache. She wanted to scream for her mom and beg her to turn it down but her throat was hoarse and whenever Chantel opened her mouth it seemed like nothing could come out. She was to weak to climb out of her bed. "where is my phone?" She manged to squeak. She felt around her twin-bed and couldn't seem to find it. Clinging to the edge she peaked down onto her floor and to her luck there it was her brand new I-phone 5s. The device she hated so dearly never looked so welcoming then it did now compared to the two weeks she had it before. Reaching for it her grip was starting to loosen and she could feel herself about to fall, She grabbed onto to her blanket and soon she fell to the ground making a hard thud that shock the whole house. "what the hell happened?" Her father came in and stood at the doorway with an annoyed expression. "I fell trying to get my phone, see." She raised her hand which held said item to prove that all this was not for nothing. Her father shook his head and left the room causing the hallway to groan with each footstep he took. She helped herself up and fixed her bed so that her slight OCD wouldn't bother her while she was laying down. She had felt weary so she cleaned off her bed and put her phone on the dresser. Laying down the vapor had filled her room again. With closed eyes all the was running through her head was again was "what is my passion?"
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